Post BtVS Season 4 and AtS Season 1 - future fic
Oz is nervous about meeting Angel.
Not mine, never have been and probably never will be. Ergo, donít sue.
Website: Thrown With Great Force
My muse appears to be on holiday so Iím trying to get her to come back by writing drivel. Also, I just felt like writing a little bit of silly O/A and this was what happened. To Faithtastic and Mae for listening to my woes last night. Cheers, mídears.
Im nervous. I dont like it. My chest is tight with apprehension, my mouth,
despite the application of Dutch courage, is dry. All for the sake of meeting someone I
havent seen in ten years.
I sip my red wine, and stare into the yellow flame of the elegant, tall, white candle
in front of me. The slightly smoky smell from the wick helps cancel the assault of
different aromas around me. Then, a look towards the glass door as it opens to admit
someone else into the restaurant
but not him. So I look back at the flame. Laying my
glass down, I start playing with a lock of my hair, and let out another sigh.
Im not really sure why Im so wound up. Im trying to keep a lid on it,
because Im sure this place has a dress code that prohibits fur. But it isnt
easy. Which is stupid because, of all the people from then, hes the one I had least
history with. I suppose Im afraid of judgement. Of all of the questions that
hes going to ask. Of finding out whats happened to everyone, and the
inevitable feelings of guilt if Buffy or
anyone has died, because I could have
should have? been there to help.
But I wasnt assuming anybody has died because I left. I
couldnt deal with not being a part of Willows life like I was, and I worried
that I would end up hurting someone if I stayed. And I used the excuse of the Initiative,
not that anyone really believed it. I left and Ive stayed away for ten years, and I
havent spoken a word or exchanged a single letter with any of the old Scooby Gang
since. At first it was just a mixture of laziness and forgetfulness. But then, later, when
I wasnt being lazy and I had remembered, it was just too difficult. Too scary, the
thought of seeing or speaking to any of them again. Besides, my life had moved on. They
were a part of my history, not my present, and I wanted to keep it that way because it was
easier to deal with.
I would have kept it that way too, except for what happened last night. When I learned
how to control the wolf at least, prevent it from surfacing at the full moon
I was a rare breed; the knowledge I have isnt well known, and difficult to learn.
Im lucky. But werewolf pelts are still in demand by the people of Sri Lanka, and
Thailand, and Japan and the rest of those places where bits of endangered species are
considered an acceptable commodity. Technically, Im not an endangered species, of
course, but you still dont get that many werewolves. Worse for me, Im a known
werewolf; my encounter with Cain all those years ago made sure of that.
However, I had thought that my ability to control the wolf would have meant that those
wackos wouldnt ever bother me. For ten years that was true, until, it seems, the
hunters figured out that the control is disrupted if you make us angry. As that scientist
from the Initiative put it, the wolf responds to negative stimulation. I may
be a rare breed, but it seems there are enough of us out there to make it worthwhile for
Cain and his mob to spend time figuring that out.
I wouldnt ever have found that out except that I kept in touch with two other
werewolves I met on my travels when I was younger that knew the same things I did. One is
already dead and probably on his way to Sri Lanka, and the other
I dont know.
He gave me an urgent call to tell me what was up, and said hed call again
I havent heard from him in a few days. Then, last night, they came for me. They were
waiting in my apartment, tried to jump on me when I went in. I dodged out of the way, and
staggered back into the hallway. They were the hunters, I was sure; the faint tang of
werewolf blood hung around them as a warning they were unaware existed. I managed to get
away with a few bruises and no wolfing out, but I cant just go home, not now. I
dont have anywhere else to go. In short, I needed help.
So I called Angel Investigations. A woman, who sounded English, answered the telephone
Angel must be collecting Watchers and I told her I needed to see Angel. I
didnt say who I was, or why I needed to see him. Just that I did. Reluctantly, she
arranged for us to meet in this restaurant, so here I am. Im not sure what Angel can
do, but Im hoping hell know.
Which brings me back to my nervous waiting. The door swings open, and in walks a tall,
dark man, the tails of his duster swirling about his legs. The same old Angel. My stomach
lurches at the sight of the vampire. He looks around, then his eyes lock onto mine, and
his mouth falls open in surprise. He moves over to me, and I stand up to greet him.
Oz! Im here to meet you?
I nod. He opens his arms and we hug. Were hugging. As my face is pushed towards
his chest, the rush of his pheromones drenches my hypersensitive nose in an ocean of pure
lust, mixed in with a musky aftershave. There, you see, is the other reason I was so
nervous. Everyone releases pheromones; most of us dont know it. Thanks to my
werewolf-American heritage, however, I do. And Angel gives off more than anyone else
Ive ever met. Naturally, it helps that Angel is very handsome, that he has a
presence, but the reason that so many people find him attractive is his pheromones. It
drives me wild. Not that Im going to start humping his leg, but theres a large
part of me that would like to. We separate, and I quickly sit down. He joins me.
Hows things? he asks.
Not great. I say, and then briefly explain the situation.
So you called me. I nod again. Well, Im sure we can help you.
And seeing as youre a friend therell be no charge.
Thanks, but wont Cordelia have something to say about that?
He gives a sad smile. She would have done. But
she died a couple of years
A wave of nausea courses through me. A demon? I whisper.
He shook his head. Thats the ironic thing. It was a car accident; she
survived all manner of demons and vampires to die in a crash.
Im sorry. Theres a pause. I decide to change the subject.
Is Wesley still there? Willow had said hed started to work for Angel the
last time I saw her.
its complicated. He seemed uncomfortable. Change
So whos the woman I spoke to on the phone?
thats Wendy. Shes a Watcher.
Another one? He just smiled. I think for a moment and a wicked thought
crosses my mind. I thought that the voice was familiar
maybe I shouldn't say
anything. I decide to ask anyway.
Angel, is Wendy
was she Wesley?
He looks shocked, and I wonder if Ive put my foot in it again.
How did you guess? he asks.
How did it happen? I respond, grinning at the thoughts in my head.
We made an enemy of a particular Wicca. She decided that he was so much of a
woman that he should actually be *one*. Then she disappeared, and we haven't been able to
track her down. Willows tried to change him I mean, her back, but she
wasnt able. So shes stuck as Wendy.
Hows he, uh, she coping?
To be honest
I think she likes it now.
Its never dull around with you or Buffy.
That its not. So, shall we get some food?
Thatd be cool. I look into his eyes and he smiles back. The
nervousness returns, my smile fades and I swallow. He takes it as something else.
Dont worry about the hunters, Oz. He puts his hand over mine on the
table for a moment, and gives it a squeeze. Itll be OK.
Sure, the lines tacky. But he was sincere. Maybe that was the most attractive
thing of all.